


Mistletoe

by lisagemeni



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Sibling Rivalry, Taunting, Teaching, Unresolved Sexual Tension, experienced mycroft, mistletoe kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisagemeni/pseuds/lisagemeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Series 3. Sherlock wants to "inadvertently" lead John to a mistletoe, but he needs more experience kissing. Who better than to ask for advice than his older brother Mycroft?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this as a joke for my best friend who doesn't ship Mylock... but I wrote this under an hour and I... I guess I like it. I hope you do too!

"Why am I here?" Mycroft groaned, the usually strange smell of Sherlock's flat giving him that much more of a migraine this time. "You wouldn't have invited me if it wasn't for a good reason. Moriarty has been... dealt with, for the time being, so no new interesting cases for awhile. We don't have to play the deduction game because Moriarty has had that honor as of late. John has just left the flat mere minutes ago so it's not that you're incredibly lonely... so, I must ask again," his eyes narrowed in confusion, "Why am I here?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his brother's arrogant frame; his legs crossed in a polite, posh manner, umbrella annoyingly thumping against John's armchair, his pocket watch out at the ready so Mycroft could find any excuse to leave. He couldn't wait to see the look on his brother's face when he would say the reason. Any chance to see Mycroft's usually withheld and contained face crack with shock was a cause for celebration. Even if Sherlock was about to ask... a huge favor. 

"The reason you're here..." Sherlock gloated mercilessly, resting his chin on his fingertips, "is something that you'll have to guess." 

"Oh? Do I?" Mycroft yawned, aggravated that his brother was ordering him around. "How boring. It'll take me less than five minutes to figure it out."

"Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds." 

Mycroft frowned in annoyance and surveyed the flat. It was up to its usual behavior; messy, unkempt, dirty but there was indeed something different this time. The skull wasn't in his usual place and there seemed to be a lot less dust. So, Mrs. Hudson had taken great measure to clean near the fireplace. But just the fireplace. Why? 

When it hit him, and it did hit him like a brick, Mycroft let out a sneering laugh. "Really, I can't trust my senses today. The fact that I didn't notice it upon walking in is clearly my mistake. Although I do abhor Christmas and all of its... trivial traditions." Mycroft waved his hand towards the fireplace, before a mischievous smirk played on his lips. "A mistletoe. You plan on leading John Watson to the mistletoe."

Red erupted on Sherlock's face and he despised Mycroft's playful tone of voice. "Yes." Sherlock stated simply. "And I... well, I need your help."

Silence.

Silence.

There was a fire, a small fire, that burst inside the elder Holmes just then. A curiosity that welled in the pit of his stomach. An idea that he had always fought with, but never acted on. His blank slate of a face changed, ever so slightly, there was a venom in his eyes and he gave off the impression of a snake, ready to pounce on its unsuspecting victim. But that too passed, and Mycroft simply glanced at his pocket watch, as if the entire conversation had already been a colossal waste of time. 

"And how... exactly can I help you?" Oh, there was no way that Mycroft would be the one to admit it. He enjoyed this little game they were playing far too much.

"You know how... " Sherlock growled through gritted teeth, "I... I need... advice. On... how to kiss. Kissing advice. Surely you've... kissed... people?" Sherlock made a face like he was about to gag. 

"Of course I have." This time Mycroft brought his hand up to suppress a yawn.

"Good. Well... that's... um, good." Sherlock knew this was a disaster. Sherlock knew he had to swallow his pride and get it over with. "So... kissing. Kissing John Watson. I... don't know how to begin exactly. I assume that I will lead him over to the fireplace, place him directly under the mistletoe, laugh a bit, he likes that I think... and then -"

"Oh please, for God's sake, Sherlock, stop..." Mycroft groaned, rubbing circles into his forehead to relieve the migraine of Sherlock's idiotic words. "I've never seen you be so pathetic." Sherlock shot him a look that could kill.

"Come." Mycroft stood suddenly, motioning for Sherlock to stand with his a wave of his hand, like a pet.

Sherlock obeyed, confusion flooding his senses but he knew it was best never to argue with his brother when he was being so mysterious.

Mycroft stood near the fireplace and straightened his suit jacket. Well, here went nothing.

"I want you to pretend I'm John Watson."

"You... want me to pretend you're John?" Sherlock repeated incredulously, staring at his brother in utter shock.

"Why, yes, I do. You've said yourself that you like the practical approach to solving mysteries. Why should this be any different?"

It was another moment of angry staring and blinking awkwardly before Sherlock nodded, swallowed the huge lump of uneasiness down his throat and reluctantly agreed. The two men stood there, Mycroft the perfect representation of being calm and collected, Sherlock the very picture of anxiety and fear.

"J-John..." Sherlock cringed, unable to process the fact that they were actually doing this. "John, I... I... there's a mistletoe here, I see... and um... " Sherlock fidgeted uncomfortably, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets and taking them back out again, "Well, it's a Christmas tradition that we have to kiss and I... I know that we've been friends for a very long time now, but..." Sherlock took an uneasy step forward. "Recently I've felt that there is... something between us." He glanced down at John's, no - Mycroft's lips, "something that logic, nor science can measure..." Another step. "Something that... no one would understood, given our history, our... circumstances..." 

Another step. Their faces were so close together that Sherlock could feel Mycroft's breath on his face. "And well, I... " His eyes skirted to Mycroft's eyes, practically begging for permission. Mycroft shrugged and leaned in, "Oh for God's sake..." and pressed his lips firmly against Sherlock's, causing the younger man to move backwards before Mycroft wrapped his arms around Sherlock's lower back, as if to say no, you're not going anywhere. Sherlock closed his eyes uncomfortably, trying to imagine it was John, but it was no use. Mycroft was much taller than John, and had a different body type entirely. Mycroft's breath tasted like mint and brandy, his tongue like ice. It made Sherlock feel woozy, but the feeling wasn't half bad.

Mycroft continued to push small kisses onto Sherlock's lips, slow and patient, not wanting to scare his younger brother off. He moaned softly as Sherlock reciprocated, their lips smacking against the other's as small popping sounds filled the air. Mycroft planted a harsh kiss on Sherlock's lower lip before tugging it towards him with his teeth. Sherlock's eyes opened in shock and he pulled away suddenly, eyes on the floor. 

"Sherlock, you have to be open for improvisation. John has the experience that you so clearly lack. You have to be ready." Mycroft scolded, shaking his head in disapproval. "Now, it seems as though you've mastered the basics. Want to continue onto something a little more... shall we say, advanced?" 

Sherlock breathed in and let out a heavy sigh. 

Mycroft continued to hold his brother in a firm grip and he gave Sherlock an all-knowing smile. "Now, isn't this fun?" 

"You and I have a very different definition of the word fun, Mycroft..." Sherlock sighed into Mycroft's lips, leaning his head towards the left to give his brother more access into his mouth. 

Without warning, Mycroft forced his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, tasting every corner, every inch and he moaned despite his pride. Sherlock tasted... well, wonderful. Everything he could have ever hoped or dreamed. He flicked lazy circles around Sherlock's mouth, relishing in the wonderful sensation and attempting to teach Sherlock how it was done. Mycroft reveled in having full and utter control of his brother. It was a feeling he had craved for since his youth and to feel it now, when he was older, when he could appreciate it... well... it was heavenly bliss.

Sherlock began to suck on his brother's tongue, still too afraid to show Mycroft his lack of skill. Mycroft moaned again, louder this time, which caused Sherlock's face to turn bright red. After a moment, Mycroft pulled away, completely out of breath.

"As... delightful as that feels," Mycroft cooed, bringing a hand up to massage Sherlock's head, "I'm sure Dr. Watson would like to fight fire with fire. Hm...?" He tangled his fingers into Sherlock's beautiful curls.

Sherlock wasn't sure how to handle Mycroft's... confidence, so he merely nodded and engulfed the man's mouth hungrily, sticking his tongue out and thrashing his tongue about wildly, with no rhyme or reason. "Sher... lock..." Mycroft managed to groan out, pulling back and caressing Sherlock's face comfortingly. "You're doing fine, really... but perhaps you should try a... more gentle approach. This is something that needs to be built upon, not something to be over with in mere seconds. It needs subtlety... it needs..." He searched for the proper word and then laughed to himself, "mystery..."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes in contempt. "Very funny."

"I thought so." Mycroft grinned coyly.

Sherlock growled in annoyance and pushed his lips against Mycroft's once more, this time moving his tongue much slower. At first it was only Sherlock providing any movement, but then Mycroft joined in, their tongues in a dance, Sherlock moving to the left, Mycroft moving to the right and then meeting in the center, the force of it making their lips part ways. Their moans blended together, like a song. Mycroft's hands combed through Sherlock's unyielding curls, Sherlock hands groped at the small of his brother's back. Suddenly their lips were moving at a quicker pace, their groans louder, and louder-

With one small, yet firm kiss, Mycroft took a step back and surveyed the damage. To his immense enjoyment, Sherlock's lips were red and swollen, his hair completely uneven and Sherlock's eyes were distraught. Mycroft thought his brother had never looked more perfect.

"Well... I really must be going. I hope you learned enough to kiss your... to kiss John. Thank you for... all of that." Mycroft waved a hand dismissively, stumbling over to his umbrella, already half way out the door before turning his face towards Sherlock, "I had a lovely time, brother dear."

And just like that, Mycroft danced down the steps, licking his lips in satisfaction, humming a Christmas song that he hadn't heard since he was a child.


End file.
